


Just The Same But Brand New

by Pecandy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 and 1, 5+1 Things, Angst, Fluff, Frottage, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Sex, Relationship Issues, Rimming, goo, gush, relationship dynamics, sap, sexual issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pecandy/pseuds/Pecandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex for Sherlock is just… overwhelming.  Five times he safe-words, and one time he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Same But Brand New

**Author's Note:**

> sap and gush and I don’t understand how I ended up writing something this mushy ever. sorry i'm not sorry.  
> for a kinkmeme prompt:  
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19743.html?thread=119539743#t119539743  
> Sherlock finds the physical sensations of sex very overwhelming and/or frightening, so John suggests that he have a safeword when they start attempting to have sex. I want to see the five times Sherlock had to put a stop to it, and the one where he/they were able to finish.

1.

John was kissing Sherlock. John was kissing Sherlock exceptionally hard, running his tongue all along the inside of his mouth and biting his lips and sucking him in. His hands were scratching all over his hair and neck and shoulders, hastily tossing away his clothes. 

They’d shared a few soft kisses before work. They’d sat into each other on lazy days, watching telly as Sherlock complained about the inanity of it. They’d snogged a few times on the couch, until they were both sweaty and panting and Sherlock excused himself to his room. And that had all been very pleasant. But this, this was more than before, more than snogging- they were going to have sex. That’s what people in sexual relationships do. They have sex. 

John pressed a palm to Sherlock’s crotch and rubbed, kneaded at his arse with his other hand, sucked at the sensitive skin under his collarbone. Too much, too fast. Sherlock felt his breathing quicken, his heartbeat pound in his ears like a hurricane and his fingers started twitching involuntarily and-

“John.” John hummed into Sherlock’s neck, still rubbing him. “John, stop, I-“ he choked on his words.

John jerked back instantly. “Sherlock?”

 _Calm down._ Sherlock took a few deep breaths and pressed his hands over his eyes. “I’m sorry. Just- a minute, I’m sorry.”

“For god’s sake, don’t apologize,” he said softly. Gingerly, he rested his hand on Sherlock’s arm and squeezed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just too much, I’m sor- I mean, it- I. I don’t know. It’s too intense. It’s frightening.”

John’s eyebrows knitted and his mouth pressed into a troubled line. His voice was soft, understanding. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Sherlock. If you don’t want to have sex wi-“

“No! No, I do. I really do, I just… perhaps we could take this more slowly?” 

John stared at him. “You’re okay?”

Sherlock nodded and John let out a relieved breath, but the concern clinging to him was practically palpable. Sherlock's mind was coming back to him, and he was starting feel supremely embarrassed. “I’ve just not really been touched by anyone before. This is ridiculous. I’m a fully grown-“ 

John pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s nothing you control. And you know what? I like slow. Slow and safe, talking through it the whole time, with a safe-word, whatever it takes to make you comfortable.”

“A safe-word.” Why had he not thought of that?

“Have one in mind?”

“No. But…” he looked over his shoulder. “Aspirin.”

“Okay. So next time, I want you to talk to me, okay? Tell me if I’m going too fast, or too hard, anything. Alright?” Sherlock nodded. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Snogging was nice," Sherlock said, his embarrassment beginning to fade.

“Well then, let’s get back to it, yeah?”

 

2.

John flopped onto the couch, exhausted, and turned on the telly. Nothing like mindless gameshows to dull the cacophony of coughs and complaints from ten hours straight at the hospital. 

He was about a half hour into Jeopardy when Sherlock walked into the living room from his study. Without a word, he sat on the couch by John’s feet, distractedly half-staring at the screen. John waited a beat before speaking. “Hi.”

Sherlock sparked out of his daze. “John.” 

“Mmm?”

“I’d like to try to have sex with you now.”

“Oh. Well. I’d like that too. Come here.” He sat up a bit, just enough to pull Sherlock by his shoulders on top of him. “Maybe if you control it, it won’t be as hard?”

“Worth a try.” Sherlock closed his eyes and pressed his lips to John’s. Slow, that should do it. Just slower than last time. He stroked the side of John’s face with his fingertips a few times before opening his mouth a bit and licking at John’s lips. John opened up and claimed Sherlock’s tongue, but with none of the ferocity of before. This time, it was more of a slow gliding dance; a soft, mutual caress. John’s fingers moved in tantalizing circles over his back, and really, did this have to progress to wanking or sucking or whatever it was that people usually did? This was fantastic just as it was.

But after ten or so minutes, John’s cock was hardening under him. John, wonderful John, didn’t rock grind up into him, but Sherlock could feel the restraint in his tightening muscles. So he started to rock his hips. Sherlock felt more than heard John moan, low and deep in his chest. His fingers tensed against his back and his breathing quickened and maybe this wasn’t too much, maybe this could work. 

But it didn’t. After a few minutes Sherlock couldn’t just focus on the lovely build, on John’s quiet, rough sounds. The couch was scratching his skin and his eyes were wide and he froze. “Aspirin,” he said tightly.

John froze under him. “Oh god. Okay. I’m here.” He placed a hand softly at the small of his back and just held it there and how did he know just the right thing to do all the time? The light pressure was like an anchor, and within a few moments of focusing on it as much as he could, Sherlock was back to himself.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“You’re hard. Can I wank you off?”

“Please.”

 

3.

Sherlock was naked on John's bed, legs in the air. His hips were being held up by John’s strong arms, his legs apart by his firm hands. John was tongue-fucking him deliciously slowly and it was sublime; his thrusts wet and deep but not too far and it was perfect. 

Sherlock looked to his right, where his hands were gripping the sheets. Egyptian cotton. He felt it against his shoulders. He felt his hair brushing against his forehead. _Shit shit shit no not again…_ but it was too late, he felt it all, too much. John hadn’t shaved since this morning, a slight stubble scratched over the soft, sensitive skin of his arse, and the fingers on his hips were calloused, and his skin was too hot and his breath was too fast and-

“Aspirin.”

John pulled off instantly. He lowered Sherlock on the bed gently, then crawled over to lie next to him. He kissed his forehead softly. “Hey.”

Sherlock put his hands over his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose. “John.” John laid an arm over him and held him, didn’t say anything more, just waited with him. Finally, Sherlock spoke again. “Thank you.”

John’s brow’s knitted. “For stopping? You know I’d-“

“For everything.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock pulled John closer and kissed him. From his hips, he could feel that John’s prick was as limp as his own. He cursed his brain for ruining sex for them again and again. John, as if reading his mind, shushed him. “It’s not just about having an orgasm. It’s about connecting with you, being close to you. It’s fine. I love you. We’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

“I just… I notice too much, I feel everything. My mind becomes overloaded. I’m not used to it.”

“I don’t know many people who are.”

Sherlock was quiet a moment. “But what can we do?”

“We try.” He breathed against Sherlock’s neck softly. “I can do some research. And we can always try couples counseling if it’s still not happening in a few months.”

“I don’t want couples therapy. I want to have sex with you.”

John pulled him closer. “We will. Don’t worry. Just be patient.”

Sherlock sighed, patience never having been one of his strongest traits. But he could try for John. He held him tighter until they drifted off together.

 

4.

John came home from work to a very loose, very seductive Sherlock. He’d barely taken off his shoes when he’d been slammed against the table and his mouth pried open with Sherlock’s tongue. John was more concerned than happy.

He pulled Sherlock off him. “What’s this?”

“Can’t I kiss my lover when he comes home from work?” Sherlock asked. John heard a little slur in his words and smelt rum on his breath.

“Since when do you call me your lover?”

“Nuances of language, John. Let’s have sex now.” He started to sloppily kiss John again but John pushed him away.

“Are you on something?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and made a flipping gesture with his hand. “You are, aren’t you? Oh my god, what did you take?”

“A few painkillers. Just enough to dull the senses. Come on, John.”

“How many is a few?”

“Four naproxen sodium tablets.”

“Throw up.”

“That’s barely more than the recommended dose!”

“Right, but clearly you’ve been drinking. You don’t mix pills and booze.” Sherlock gaped at John, as though the thought had completely slipped his mind. “Aspirin. I’m safe-wording for you because you’re obviously in no state of mind to do it yourself. Now go throw up.” Sherlock rolled his eyes again. “I’m not joking, Sherlock. You could get seriously ill.” Resigned, he sauntered off to the bathroom.

He came back a few moments later, smelling of mint toothpaste. He was obviously a bit more clear-headed, if his self-conscious blush and averted eyes were anything to go by. “For god’s sake, what sort of logic is that?”

“No logic. I- I was going to just get drunk. And then I thought I should try an aspirin too. And I took the wrong bottle.” He blew a little puff of air out of his lips. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Jesus, Sherlock. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable? Jesus. I like snogging and cuddling and all that shit and will you please just listen to me? Because I’m not just saying it patronizingly. I mean it. Sex isn’t worth it if you get hurt. Not by a long shot. Fuck.” Sherlock saw John’s shoulders shaking a bit. _Oh, shit, shit._

He walked over and pulled John to his chest. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry. It was idiotic and ridiculous and I don’t understand how I thought it was possibly a good idea. I want to be sober for our first time anyways, not numbed out of my mind.”

John put his arms around Sherlock. “Me too. I love you. And I don’t think I could stand to lose you. Not for a second.”

“Then you won’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

5.

“So you’re saying, in your 15 years of adulthood, you’ve never had a blowjob.” John set down a cup of coffee in front of Sherlock and stared at him incredulously.

“16. And it hardly needs any repetition, John.”

“Jesus. Can I…?”

Sherlock looked down and bit his lip, concentrating. After a moment, he spoke, with deliberation. “I want you to. I want to. I don’t know if I can but I want to try with you. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Tell me the second it starts to be too intense. You won’t offend me, I swear. Okay?”

“Yes. And you don’t have to treat me like a wounded puppy every time we have sex.”

John sniggered. “Right.” He sunk to his knees in front of Sherlock and tried to push apart his legs, but Sherlock’s trousers were so tight John could barely move his legs. “Oh, this pair. Get them off, I’m not even going to try with these. They’re practically molded to you. Though they do amazing things to your arse.”

“Goodness, John. Are you always so eloquent to people you’re about to orally pleasure for the first time? I’m starting to feel out of my class with you.” He started wriggling down his pants and trousers.

“Only for you, lovemuffin.”

“Piss off.” Sherlock flung the trousers away with a kick. 

“You don’t mean that,” he said with a smirk, drawing closer to Sherlock’s half-hard prick, “do you? Much too curious, I know you.” When Sherlock didn’t say anything, John rubbed his hands on the insides of his thighs. Sherlock’s chest started rising and falling heavily. John put his mouth to the tender skin at the meeting of Sherlock’s thigh and groin and licked slowly, making Sherlock gasp audibly.

“John, hurry up,” he said with a strained voice.

John moved so he was facing Sherlock’s cock. Slowly, he laid a long lick from the base to head. Sherlock groaned above him, a good groan. John repeated the move a few times before kissing at the tip lightly. He didn’t want to rush this, didn’t want to overwhelm him again. He wanted his first blowjob to be satisfying as well as mind-blowing.

He opened his mouth and took Sherlock in, taking care to go as slowly as he could. Sherlock started moaning and cursing over him, the sounds going straight to his own rapidly hardening cock, and John took him in deeper. He had to hold down Sherlock’s bucking hips with his hands. This was going well, he might actually finish this time…

Sherlock grabbed John’s hair and pulled sharp, nails digging into his scalp wonderfully hard. Without thinking, John moaned low in his throat. Sherlock tensed and the hand in his hair jerked back. _Oh, fucking hell_. He slid off him with an undignified wet sound. “Aspirin?” Sherlock nodded, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I-“

“It’s not your fault.” John got up and sat next to him, taking his hand in his own. After a moment, Sherlock’s breathing calmed. “It wasn’t bad. It was amazing. Incredible. I just-“

“I know. It’s fine.” He squeezed Sherlock’s hand. The two sat in silence for a moment before Sherlock spoke. “You’re hard.”

John looked down, as though he’d forgotten. “Oh. So I am.” He paused and looked away uncomfortably. “What- we- um.” John looked awkwardly at the floor when Sherlock didn’t say anything. “I can take care of it in my room later, just forget it.”

“Do it here.”

“Here? On the couch?”

“I want to watch you.” He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing John and stared at him fixedly. “Masturbate, I mean.”

“I know what you mean. Just… wow. Okay.” He shucked off his pants and trousers without bothering to undo the buttons or zip and pulled his cock a few times, the sweet friction just starting to starting to fill his head with pleasure when Sherlock spoke.

“No.”

John groaned and slowed his pace. “No what?”

“Slow down, make it last more than a minute. I want to see the face you make when you’re on the edge of orgasm.” The tip of his tongue poked out to wet his lips and John’s breath caught in his throat.

 _Christ_. “If you keep talking like that, I won’t be lasting at all.”

Sherlock gave no indication that he had heard John. “Tease the slit more and touch your scrotum.” His voice was low and rich, and was doing filthy things to John’s mind, and his hands moved without a thought. “You’re so close already, this is affecting you more than normal masturbation.”

“Obviously.”

“Good.” He put his fingers to his lips and watched. John felt his eyes boring into him, sending blood pounding to his cheeks and cock. Two more times, he came close, and Sherlock had him slow down until he’d calmed. He was close to begging, or just not listening anymore, but he wanted to let Sherlock have him however he wanted.

Finally, he neared the peak again. This time, Sherlock didn’t stop him. Instead, he leaned over, still starting into John’s eyes, and put his hand over his cock. He gave it three firm pulls before John came, grabbing Sherlock’s shoulder.

John panted and slowly regained his breath. “Get what you wanted from that?”

Sherlock nodded. 

“Why…?”

“So I have something to think about the next time I masturbate.”

John closed his eyes and groaned. “You sexy… mmm. You’d better let me watch.” 

 

+1.

Sherlock was kissing John. Sherlock was kissing John desperately. John had been shot. John could have died. 

They caught the artifact robber with enough evidence to jail him for 20 years. But not before he’d shot at John, bullet passing cleanly through his right arm. Sherlock didn’t think it was serious at first. But the blood, there was so much blood…

They made him stay and talk to police as they carted a semi-conscious John away to the ambulance, his arm wrapped up in bloodied gauze. Sherlock answered hastily, in a daze, ran off the moment he could to St. Mary’s. He demanded information from the doctors and nurses, all but ran to the room he’d been taken to. 

John would be fine. He’d needed a few stitches and some heavy bandages. He’d be released in a half hour. He should stay off his feet if possible for the next week or so. He should drink a lot of clear fluids and avoid reaching.

When Sherlock was finally allowed in the room, he embraced John almost madly. John seemed okay, though a bit more tired and pale than usual. There was a huge white sling on his right arm where the bullet had barely missed a pressure point. Just a few inches off. Sherlock shuddered to think of it and held John tighter to him. 20 years wasn’t nearly enough punishment for that scum. Sherlock would see to it that he’d spend his life rotting in a cell.

But John was here now, in their flat, and Sherlock loved him. He pushed John on the mattress and kissed all of the longing, the pain, the fear and love and urgency and he felt John understand.

Hands touched everywhere, holding and claiming. Sherlock felt John tugging at his hair, rubbing his scalp and _feeling_ him. In the back of his mind, he was surprised by the intensity of need he felt; but he could hardly think beyond the fact that John was still there with him, in his arms. He dragged his fingers down the front of John’s shirt, hard enough to make him pull in a sharp gasp. He unbuttoned his shirt and smoothed it down, pausing when the sleeve reached his sling. “John…”

“I’m here.”

He pushed John down on the bed and straddled him. “I thought-“

“I’m here. I’ve had much worse, and I’m still here. It’s okay.” John took Sherlock’s hand in his and wiping away a tear Sherlock hadn’t realized was forming.

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand. He unbuttoned John’s trousers, sliding them off and tossing them away. He reached into John’s pants, grabbing his half-hard cock while sucking at his tongue. John gasped again and grabbed Sherlock’s face, pulling him back for a furious kiss, biting Sherlock’s lips and sliding his hands down Sherlock’s back. Fingers trailed into Sherlock’s pants to grope his arse and pull him closer, creating a new firm friction between their cocks. Sherlock tilted his head back and moaned.

John licked and suck at the exposed skin under Sherlock’s chin, hastily undoing his buttons and grabbing his cock. They kissed and touched and _felt_ each other for breathless moments, hours maybe, years, and Sherlock didn’t realize he was coming until he felt the slickness of it on John’s hand. And then John was coming- gasping as and eyes rolled back and his back arched and he groaned Sherlock’s name.

And then John hugged Sherlock so tight Sherlock felt he might break something. “You came,” he whispered right into his ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I thought I lost you. John, I thought you were going to- to-“

“Sherlock, I’m here. And I’m going to stay here, with you. As long and as much as possible.”

“John…”

Sherlock pressed his lips to John’s, and there were no more words for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I’m sure I don’t need to tell y’all this but better safe than sorry! **Do not take alcohol and painkillers together, ever!** They do not mix and could cause serious illness or death. Sherlock is doing a very dumb and dangerous thing in this fic.  
>  Okay now that that’s out of the way, comments and reviews are awesome and always appreciated a lot <3  
> Title from St. Vincent.


End file.
